As If Just A Breath
by War Bred Viking
Summary: The world has odd ways of working. Captured, tortured, and destined to die. Then not moments later, entrusted to protect an old friend and Queen. Desires that had been tucked away as if they didn't exist finally brought out into the open. The oddest group of companions, the oddest group of lovers (SylvanasxOCxOC - Varying expansions, starts in MoP)
1. Chapter 1 (01-31 10:53:22)

**_Hello all! Welcome to my first dedicated fan fic! I plan on updating this as best to my ability and keep it going for quite a bit. Ofcourse not sure on the exact number of chapters I want but I won't end it with a cliff hanger at any point so don't worry! I hope whoever reads enjoys! I accept all forms of criticism so go crazy!_**

PS: This story may jump perspectives from time to time due to the fact that I'm not great at staying in just one perspective as an author just yet, apologies to those this will irritate, I'm working on getting better at it.(First Person will always be from Willhelm's POV)

PPS: I will be updating each chapter even after I publish them, no major changes, just spell corrections, word change if I think another word fits better or creates better word play in general, I tend to reread my work and obviously sometimes I feel different towards things I may have thought to be good in the past haha, apologies :)

 _(Short) Prologue_

 _The ere brush of frost that touched upon my face as her breath caressed my cheek and neck was chilling to the bone, yet so comforting, it warmed my heart to it's content. I had never believed the day that was now would ever come to be true, it only ever being just a dream. However, the wet, soft, suppleness of her lips against mine told me otherwise. I knew it was not a mere thought in my constantly fluttered head. The pale icey figure that lay atop of me was there and was there to stay. She would never leave, unless matters were that of death. The city she had to run could wait._

 _(Begining of Chapter)_

His boots sunk into the moist, groggy soil beneath him, caking mud on the black leather. The air around him was dank, that of death and pine, a weird mix he was not yet used to despite how long he had spent in Undercity, the capital of the Forsaken. He stood with no real purpose other than the purpose of standing. His glistening steel blade hung in its designated sheath, ready to cut through even the toughest of foe yet he had not a single chance of needing to use it where he was, for he was safe for the time being.

The cobblestone he leaned against was rugged, as was he. Moss clung to the old rock as if its life depended on it, yet he used the stone for balance simply because he could.

A man of war felt so uneasy at peace, yet at the same time felt good for not being at war. It was odd.

Light footsteps approaching behind him caught his attention, yet he didn't budge from where he was, knowing the silence behind him well. A cold hand grasped at the back of his neck, rubbing at the tender muscles gently as if he had needed the comfort. "Who would've known the dead could care so much..." he spoke with a soft, yet deep voice, but it was enough for the approaching person to hear. Her laugh was meniacal, that of pure evil, it sounded like an echo from some ethereal spirit within as it bounced off of the Ruins of Lorderan.

It scared off even the toughest of warriors, yet the only man there to witness it didn't move. "If only that were true..." Her voice was like that of daggers piercing skin and sent chills down the spine of anyone who heard it. The Banshee Queen leaned against her most trusted friend from behind and gave a light hug before rotating to stand infront of him. "Dare I say you'd be three times as terrifying if you didn't care." It wasn't a question, but a statement. "You find me scary do you?" Sylvanas put her hand on his chest and looked up into his eyes, hers glowing a firey ruby red, his a forsty blue. "In an attractive sort of way, I'd say." He smirked, staring back into her gaze. "You find it sexy, do you?" She asked, More scaring laughter followed by a teasing, seductive glance, she turned away and stared up at the silver stars that glazed the night sky. She continued in a whisper, "It's surely something that people can find the dead attractive." Willhelm was caught off guard by the sudden change in tone.

The warrior stepped towards his queen, a hand landing on her hip, the opening in her armor where his hand landed exposing soft flesh which was that of ice. Her eyes widened in surprise at the touch. She darted her gaze back at him, her silver-white locks whipping through the air as her head turned. He looked deep into her eyes, his next words chosen carefully and packed with meaning. "My lady, you are more beautiful than the stars you previously looked upon. You always have been, always will be. You can ask your lover the same thing. She will certainly agree." Her smile didn't reach her eyes. "Ellithara would say anything just to get me in bed with her, and we both know it. As would you." She lightly chuckled, an evil grin upon her lips. His eyes rolled as he shook his head side to side with laughter. "Now, that said activity is soley reserved for the Queen and her love. Just a poor little body guard like me would _never_ partake in such activities." He smiled but didn't look at The Dark Lady.

"Don't kid yourself, Willhelm..." She replied, placing a hand on his shoulder. Willhelms' laugh was quite heartey.

Sylvanas' mind wondered for a moment before her face grew serious. Willhelm looked at her a moment before understanding that the switch from "Sylvanas" to "The Banshee Queen" got flipped. He cleared his throat. "So, Garrosh is ordering more troops to Pandaria, My Lady. Should I accomidate him with our forces?" He spoke with monotone. His Queen moved away from him and began looking off into nothing once more, her head racing. _Troops here, Garrosh this, War now..._ The same things constantly repeated within her mind would drive a living person insane. "Yes, however I will go as well, he seems to want me on this, _campaign_ of his."

Suddenly a voice pierced through all of the ruckus and made Sylvanas feel warm inside for a moment, before turning back to the desolate frost that was her. "So this is where you both ran off to!" Ellithara, The Banshee Queens' right hand and intimate lover, one of the only people she's ever truly showed compassion for after her undeath, walked out from the entrance to Undercity, approaching the two quickly. Sylvanas turned on a dime when she heard her soft, kind voice come from behind. She couldn't help but to stare at the flowing golden bunch of sunshine that was Ellitharas' hair, as well as the way her hips swayed as she quickly approached, her slightly sun kissed skin accentuating the colors. Her eyes matched that of the clear blue sky, or the crystal waters that surrounded some of the Eastern Kingdoms' coasts, not being corrupted by fel like most other Elves of her origin today. The two Elves collided and shared a kiss, their lips pressing together as did their bodies, first Sylvanas' tongue pierced through the soft flesh and entered Ellitharas' mouth. Then quickly following in her Queens footsteps, Ellitharas' tongue shot forth, the two muscles entertwining.

Willhelm stood there, now with his back against the closest stone wall, watching and blushing as both women continued their moment of extacy.

Sylvanas was surprisingly the last one to pull away from the embrace. Ellithara glanced at Willhelm, her cheeks flushed as well. "Well! I must say I wasn't expecting it to get that... intimate, sorry Will!" She exclaimed and giggled a little. Willhelm waved his hand infront of him and chuckled, " No no, it's fine, I rather enjoy the show." He nearly lost himself to the massive amount laughter trying to escape from within. Both Elven women scoffed and rolled their eyes. Ellithara took a few steps towards him, lightly embracing Willhelm and planting a soft kiss on his cheek. "Thank you for keeping my love safe Will, I know she can be a lot." A teasing glance towards Sylvanas was shot, the Banshee Queen returned the favor with a smile and the finger. Willhelm Chuckled a little and shook his head slightly. "Oh believe me, I'm aware." Sylvanas smirked and looked away for a second before looking back at him. She glared at him and shot her eyes and tilted her head towards the entrance to Lorderon. He understood what she meant and nodded. "Ah, drats, I forgot about some letters I've failed to reply to. I must attend to them before i forget once more, please excuse me ma'ladies." Ellithara's constant smile turned into a frown for a moment before returning to it's gleeful stance. "Alright then Will, we'll miss ya! Come find us when you've finished up!" She hugged him, as did his Queen and bid him goodbye. As much as Sylvanas thought she had hidden the almost telepathic conversation she had with Willhelm, Eillithara noticed what she was playing at, however went along as if completely oblivious to her lovers' actions.

The Dark Lady stepped back from Ellithara and began walking away, as if expecting her to follow like some common house pet called to service. She did, Sylvanas laughed on the inside at the act. "You know I must leave..." The Banshees' voice was low, calm, unwavering. She felt a warm hand gracefully slide into hers and grasped it. Her arm was pulled back and Sylvanas entered Ellitharas' arms. "My Queen, my love..." Sylvanas stared down into her crystal eyes, the intense ruby and enlightening frost glows combining. Ellithara continued, "I know that you have your duties, I'll always be here when you get back. I will miss you, sure, but at least I'll have this entire city to remind me of you." Sylvanas' smile almost flew from her cheeks. "Yes, and while you're busy ruling my city, I doubt you'll have any time to even think of how much you miss me." An evil glare paired with a toothy grin formed to show off her fangs. Ellithara gasped, backing away from her lover. "Me!?!?" She exclaimed, "Make Nathanos do it!" The Banshee Queen began to laugh. "Undead or not, I'm not letting that boy rule my city just to tear everything I've built to ruin. Besides, I thought you enjoy rulling next to me?" She wasn't wrong. "Yes, I do, however thats next to you, not by myself! It's not the same!" Ellithara's face turned to that of concern, as she didn't believe in herself to rule a city without her Queen at her side, she stared down at the wet grass at her feet, not making contact with the Banshee anymore. Sylvanas gently held her hand up to her lovers cheek, caressing the delicate flesh. "Ellithara, I believe in you to do this, you are my most trusted friend and love." Her voice was that of a lulliby, winning over Ellithara without any further attempts. "You know if Master Apothecary Farenell wasn't also occupied by this, I'd appoint him, however, he is already in Pandaria, and I trust you most of all. You will do fine."


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2: Side by Side**

 _( In perspective of Lord Willhelm Wolfhardt)_

A week had passed since I last had seen a single pine tree. Nothing but water, clouds, birds, and blue sky. The sea was calm, like that of a sleeping child, the waves smooth, simply brushing against the sides of the ship we sailed onward. The sky was as clear as a pane of glass, the sun beating upon the upper most deck, the only shade available being below deck and the shadows that the sails cast upon us.

I leaned against a cannon that sat idle at the side of the ship and simply glanced upon the doorway that lead into the royal quarters. It was as if the gods were calling upon me to enter for some other worldly purpose. Ruby eyes began to shine through the darkness that cloaked the woman they belonged to. The sun not daring to direct its rays upon her highness. A fanged smile was directed my way, followed by the bright jewels fading back into the darkness.

Sylvanas was like the millions of gold everyone and everything wanted, yet knew they just simply couldn't have. It felt... odd to lust over the living dead however she didn't look like most of the Undead. She was a banshee, her body almost perfectly preserved, save for the lack of blood flow and properly working organs, it was as if she hadn't even died and was never raised. Some other obvious aspects had changed as well. Her touch was that of frost, her breath a winters chill. I had never been one for the cold, the warmth always comforted me. Sylvanas was a very different story.

"Lord WolfHardt, the Dark Lady requests your presence, I'd make haste if I were you. She did not seem happy." I peered left unaware a sailor had approached me, his disembodied voice and rotting appearance slightly startling me however used to it I was. "Understood, consider me already there." The sailor nodded and left me, proceeding to continue on with his other ship-born duties. I began to march my way towards the Banshee's quarters, taking in the scenery as I made my way. When I arrived, the door was already open, as if an open invitation so I of course entered, the two guards standing by it motioning their heads in the direction of said entrance. As I walked into the unknown, I noticed the room appeared empty. The quarters were cool, the stained glass windows that were located just above the head of the Queens' bed were opened wide, yet the sun shine was suppresed by the compressing shroud that was the room. A shivering chill layred the floor and caused the hairs on my legs to stand up full height. Violet, Silk drapes lined the bed under the stained windows, which layed in the center most part of her quaters, yet still pushed back against the farthest wall. The remaining stained glass windows that were placed elsewhere along the sides of the ship had dark depictions of The Dark Lady, the Forsaken insignia. I stood there a moment longer in the room, waiting for a sign of life, the Queen that had requested yours truly no where to be seen. I felt a chill run up my spine. A major gust of wind then smacked itself against me, the open door I had entered through slammed shut with great force. Sharp claws began to soflty trace their way around the back of my neck, followed by moist flesh pressing against my skin. A delicate kiss was placed upon the muscles that surrounded my spine and throat, the small spicle of left over saliva leaving the spot of contact cooler than the rest of me. Freezing arms wrapped themselves around my waist and a head planted itself against my back, the nose of whom it belonged to dug into me. Breasts and waist pressed against me firmly as the arms around me tightened.

"Your warmth is comforting..." A hollowed, piercing, chilled voice broke the silence. "My La-", A finger pressed itself against my lips. "Sshhh... Quiet..." I found myself rather confused, but stayed still and allowed the Banshee to continue whatever she was doing. A moment later, she released me and spun me to face her. I looked down, pure blood red eyes meeting frost blue ones. Her normal cold dead stare was a soft gaze full of sorrow. "Sylvanas... Is something the matter?" No verbal answer was given. She simply embraced me once more and layed her head against my chest. Her actions were more than enough to hand me the answer. Seeing such an intimidating, powerful, and fearless leader, one I especially held close to my heart, look so vulnerable was rather frightening. Sexual desires and playful behaviour were not an odd thing to see when she was around Ellithara, on occasion i as well, however weakness, the need to have someone close to her, to hold her. That was a job only for her lover. "What troubles you?" I simply asked. No answer. "Sylvana-" "Silence!" The word pierced through mine and everyone elses ears, the combination of simple words and the scream of a Banshee. The Gulls that incircled the ship frenzied, the cawing from outside the cabin greatly increased. The atmosphere in the room was once again quiet. The sea birds began to cleared out of the vicinity, making the silemce grow. Daggers for finger nails dug into my arms, sobbing began to break the newly established silence. I could feel my linen shirt dampen with what I could only assume were tears. I thought to myself... "The Dark Lady, The Banshee Queen of the Forsaken. Sylvanas Windrunner... Crying. You'd have to see it to believe it, but good luck surviving past that point."

I wasn't sure on what to do. I was close to her, but not in this fashion. A desire towards the Ranger-General had once been there, and still was, however after the scourge, she and many others had not been the same people they once were, especially her. Comfort was the only thing running through my mind at that point. I began to run my fingers through her britle, silver locks and carefully rub my other caliced hand up and down her back, the charred black leather and lace she wore as lounge wear moving with my hand. Chilling breath brushed against my neck as she opened her mouth to speak once more. "I'm sorry... old friend."

What felt like hours had passed, the once bright empowering sun that had only just sat at it's highest point was now only half exposed in the horizon, purple and orange hues mixing in the sky as it set to give hold to the beautiful goddess moon. The room I sat in was now only lit by the still opened window above the Banshee Queens' royal bed, the remaining windows in the room blocked the majority of the refracting light from entering her quarters. Sylvanas was sound asleep to the right of me underneath the covers of her bed. In the concealment of her privacy, it seamed as if she attempted to cling to what life was like before her death. In the Undercity, I had never once seen the Dark Lady sleep, save for her moments with lady Ellithara, as she didn't need to. I rarely spotted her doing anything other than sit in her throne and adress home-bound problems, accept letters from messengers, and listen to commoners give their two sense about what they felt to be adequate fixtures for the city itself. The only time she showed actual life was around Ellithara and the occasoccasional teasing and other comical jokes towards I. She was just an empty, heartless, blood thirsty, ruthless ruler to every other creature with eyes. Ellithara and I knew differently, her more than I.

I could still hear the sound of sea water colliding against the front and sides of the ship we sailed upon. The sound of gulls had returned, however dummed down than last they had been in our presence.

I slid myself off of the bed and softly crept to a corner of the room that held a round table with the accompanying chairs to sit in, and sit I did. An empty wooden tankard sat on the table close to me. My eyes quickly began to trace the outline of the famed container of liquids and I then realized just how parched I was. I grasped the handle of the cup and stood onto my feet, then as quickly as I stood, I made my way out of the Queens quarters. When I reached the door and opened it, I squinted my eyes to help them adjust to the new amount of light presented to them. A gust of wind brushed against my beard and high cheekbones, as well as blew the ends of my coat about with nearly no resistance from the coat itself. Sailors moved about the ship keeping up with their duties, keeping mind of the sails, moving supplies to and from, the undead working like mindless drones in service of their Dark Lady.

The mere aptitude of the Forsaken was astonishing for a people with such a rough past. Their Queen being a steady source of great moral.

With tankard still in hand, my mind snapped back to it's more primal needs as my mouth grew dryer by the second. I made my way below deck to the sailor cabins where they kept food and drink for the few living crew among the ship and made for the kegs. With the push of the tap, the bronze liquid poured into my cup, foam lining the top, serving as a sign for when the tankard had reached it's limits. With a single glance at the newly filled flask, a smile was set upon my grim face and with a simple raise of my hand, I put the brim of the wood container to my lips and began to sip at the ale, my pace of consumption growing quicker with each passing moment. Just as the liquids flushed down my throat, the sound of a bell and sailors roaring warnings to each other broke the moment of bliss and as quickly as we were all warned, an iron ball tore through the hull of the ship, sending splinters flying towards where I stood, the sphere of metal also ripping into the kegs I had just begun to worship. I dove for cover, holding the tankard in my grasp as tightly as I could, trying my hardest to not spill it's contents. Cannon fire mixed with Orcish and Gutter speak filled the air. Sailors rushed past where I layed on the wooden floor boards to get into positions and battle stations. I stood with the cup of ale still in hand and quickly peered into it, it's fullness now replaced with only being a quarter full. I rolled my eyes and downed what was left, then tossed the cup and rushed up onto the deck of the ship. The clouds were once again in view, as was an Alliance vessel on the portside. I cursed under my breath and ran towards the wheel of the ship to address the captain.

"Admiral Jonsey! What in the name of the Dark Lady is going on! They shot my damned ale!" The Admiral schoffed and chuckled. "Well Lord WolfHardt, it would seem we have some unwanted company!" He replied in his loud, disgruntled, coarse voice. He pointed at the rival ship in the water whilst he spoke the words. He then continued to bark orders to the lower sailors, all while dodging cannon balls and wooden shards. My mind then dashed to hers truly at that very moment, "where might be Sylvanas..." I thought to myself

"Where on Azeroth is the Dark Lady!" I finally voiced. The Admiral simply pointed once more, too busy steering the ship and maneuvering around cannon fire to do much more. Surely enough, with one glance, there she was, up in the crows nest with her bow, clad in her usual armor, firing arrows at the Alliance flag ship as if she hadn't been asleep just 10 minutes ago. Each arrow found it's mark, each one upon landing exploded in purple fire, setting the area of impact aflame. Her marksman skills were truly amazing, her past life being well spent as the Ranger-General of Silvermoon. I took my focus off of Sylvanas and focused back on the more important matter at hand; the sea battle. The ships continued in a circle, each tying to gain an advantage on the other, firing cannon after cannon, each ships' crews trying to assist with rifles and blunderbusts. With the sun almost completely concealed by the horizon, night was upon us, the battle doing it's job to provide light only when a weapon fired it's munitions or when a spell caster launched some form of magic either way.

I made my way around the deck, attempting to help where I could, soon realizing a mistake I made the hard way. A sharp pain entered my abdomen as I jogged towards Admiral Jonsey and the wheel of the ship. As I peered down and pressed the area with my fingers, blood began to stain my cloth shirt as well as cover my hand. My lack of armor in the middle of a firefight at sea was a poor decision on my part, that was apparent. I winced in pain, however began to ignore it. My armor and weapons laid back below deck, and that was where I was headed once more. I sprinted down into the ship, holding my wound whilst doing so. My bunk layed strewn all over the place, only one side of the bed was still attached to the wall, my belongings also scattered around. A fallen armor rack to my left caught my attention and my luck presented itself. My armor was still in one peace. I quickly grabbed it and threw it on, tightening straps and tieing laces as quickly as one could. Yelling and weapon fire was drowning out my thoughts as I strapped on my last boot. Once finished, I rushed back topside and assessed the situation. My wound still bled but that was far from important at the moment. I peered right just in time to witness a Forsaken sailor take a cannon ball to the chest, the rest of him ripped to pieces and flew elsewhere. I glanced above me, Sylvanas was still positioned near the top of the main mast, jumping to and from different extensions of each mast, dodging whatever the enemy threw at her. I grabbed my sword at my side and unsheathed it. Admiral Jonsey had moved from the wheel of the ship to another position, having someone take his place and steer. A hand clasped my steel shoulder plate and surely enough, it was Jonsey.

"By Sylvanas, what in the hell were you doing below deck again? Stop pleasing the seamen and get your ass onto that Alliance ship and do what you do best!" I laughed at the captain's tease and nodded, "Had to gather my balls, sir! It seems you've certainly lost yours!" I gestured inbetween his legs. His withered face turned sour and he showed a frown as best as he could. What was left of his brows angled inwards as well and he shook his head. I smirked at his attempted facial expressions. "Curse your handsome, untouched-" He eyed my couple scars that painted my face- "well mostly untouched mug!" He grasped my cheeks and jaw with his boney fingers and squeezed. He looked my in the eyes, his hollowed out sockets filled with a bright amber glow. "I need you on that ship now!" I nodded once again and patted his back before lunging myself forward towards the side of the ship closest to the Alliance vessel. I grabbed rope that was tied to the sail. The gap from ship to ship was large but with a bit of assistance, manageable. I cut the rope and with that, the wind pulled at me as it tried to tear the sail from my hands. Salt water sprinkled my face as it collided with the side of the ship. A flash of a cannon glared in the corner of my eye. I stood on the railing of the great Forsaken vessel I currently called home, everything slowed for a moment. The newly risen moon sat perfectly in the sky, just above the rear of the ship I was soon to board. It called to me, and I felt a tear at my muscles. They tightened as my skin darkened and fur sprouted from my body. My skull lengthened and my arms swelled as my legs shifted in form. My canines grew and sharpened as did the rest of my teeth and groaning turned to snarling. I stood straight in full power, strutting my true form. A heightened sense of smell, sharpened vision. My grip on the rope tightened and I quickly took plenty of steps back before launching forwards off the side of the ship at the opposing one. The rope held true and once at it's widest angle, I let go. I sailed through the air, forming my body to be more aero dynamic. Fur whipped in the wind. My trajectory was true and I slammed against the side of the Alliance boat. My newly formed claws dug into the finely shapened wood and my muscles tensed as I held on. With slight preparation, I lunged up the ship and managed over it's railing, my feet, now shaped like paws landed with grace, but weight behind said grace. I stood tall and gathered my surroundings. Three Sailors starred me down with confusion before drawing their swords, readying for a fight.

I shrugged my shoulders, then spoke in my now deeper, rasped voice, "What? No need to hesitate gentlemen, I'm not friendly..." I smirked, making sure to bare my fangs. With a last look at each other, the sailors charged with swords raised, the fight commenced. With a duck under one curved blade, I countered with all five claws on my right hand into the opposers' stomach. As he groaned over, a blade came down behind me, but before it landed, I turned with the sailor still in my hands, causing the other ones blade to bare down into his friends shoulder. With a push, the two toppled over onto the deck floor. The third sailor stepped back a moment, presumably assessing how to go about fighting me. He set one foot forward and held his sword true. I waved my claws in intimidation and put them to my side, ready to counter what ever he threw. A hardy roar and a swipe from his right, I dived to the floor and got onto all fours, then launched into the sailor. He had no time to react and was tackled to the floor. His sword dropped at the force of impact and his head slammed into the floor, dazing his vision. I raised my right claw to swipe while sitting over top of him, just I time for an arrow to fly under my armpit. A glance upward showed Sylvanas in her perch, winking and smirking in my direction. A turn of the head showed another Alliance soldier behind me with an arrow in his rib cage. I quickly dispatched the sailor that still squirmed underneath of my weight, sending blood flying in the direction of my swipe.

Eventually more friendly forces boarded the vessel with me and we over-threw the Alliance vessel. After the fighting had come to an end, I took my leave. I laid flat on the bow of the ship, no longer clad in fur, no longer did the smell of wet dog cling to my aroma. My armor was destroyed from the transformation, my undershirt torn and shredded, my pants nothing but a loin cloth now. I laid there with my eyes closed facing the stars above, one hand behind my head, the other next to my bullet wound. Light clacks of metal heels on wooden floor boards approached, I was sure who it was. Fire erupted in my abdomen and pain shot up my entire body, my eyes flashed open and I quickly sat up, wincing, almost falling into the water below in the process. Surely enough, there she was, pressing her fingernails into the hole in my stomach. "Ah fffuu...ck! What the hell!" blood began to leak quicker by the second. Sylvanas bore down harder and leaned in to look me in the eyes, those fiery rubies would catch a man's soul aflame. I reached to grab her wrist but she pressed harder at the movement. "Tsk, tsk..." Her lips moved so elegantly, "What did I say about transforming around my troops? You dogs never listen..." _You dogs?_ "Well-ack!- would you have rather sunk with your sh-" Her soft, supple lips pressed against mine, cutting me off midsentence. I attemted to back away in protest but she leaned closer. She then backed off, a trickle of saliva trailing behind. "Ehmm? My lady?" I was more confused than ever. She licked her lips and wiped the excessive moistness from them and stood straight up, looking behind her. She spoke without looking my way, "Try to be more careful next time... You shouldn't even have a scratch, the extensive training I've given you." The fact that the single wound I was given had been delt to me before I had even began to fight wasn't even on the table. She simply shook her head with a sly smirk and then walked off to attend to other duties, just like that. After repairs were made to our ship, we set off once more for the mystical land of Pandaria, leaving the Alliance ship behind, slowly burning with the last of it's sailors bare assed to find a way to survive, if they could at all.


	3. Chapter 3

**_This chapter, I shall attempt to focus on backstories and things of the past to fill in some quite obvious gaps in story and relationships between characters. The past will be written in Italics and the present in just plain text as normal, hope you all enjoy!_**

Willhelm sat idle on the railing of the crows nest, his back turned to center of the mast and legs hanging freely about in the wind, pondering on many thoughts that crawled their way back into the forefront of his mind. His past coming up in many instances. His eyes narrowed and his facial features sunk in unison as constant reminders of the pain he'd endured in his last few years, ranging from the simplicity of loss, to the dark recesses of torture. He moved a hand from the railing, losing of bit of support as the other was gripped tightly around a rope tied to one of the multiple webs of rope around the ship and peered down at his wrist and forearm. Multiple scars lined their ways up and down the arm, the other arm having identical markings, some earned in battles against his many enemies, some received as he fought for his life in a time of need. He traced one specific scar that flowed from the end of his middle finger down to the beginning of his forearm, then clenched his fist, a warm memory shooting into his mind.

 _Swish! A steel axe sacved the end of Sylvanas's eye brow, the little golden hairs falling to the dirt beneath her. With in-human agility, she leaned just out of harms way as another axe flew in her direction, the Troll Axe-thrower being very persistent to end her life. She quickly regained her balance and drew an arrow from her quiver. With a strong pull of the string and the following release of it, her arrow launched towards the Troll, embedding itself in his skull. She watched the tribal drop at a moments notice and smiled at the perfection that was her marksmanship. Although with a quick glance around her, she had noticed her ranks' decreasing numbers and arched her brows, fury building within her at the sight of so many fallen elves, as well as humans who had came to their aid. A turn of the head to the right however, and her life had flashed before her eyes and time seemed to slow, another hurling axe just inches from her chest. Just as she was sure it had planted itself in her breast, the sound of steel on steel rung in her overly sensitive ears. A glance downwards had shown an extended gauntlet that was strewn across the length of her chest, and followed by the arm was a human slowly launching himself through the air. He quickly landed in the dirt beneath their feet, having thrown himself in her direction to save her. Sylvanas instinctively stepped back as if to dodge the axe she no longer needed to worry about and gasped at his ever so timely arrival. She then shot down to his level to see if he was alright, but not before drawing another arrow and firing it into the Trolls' heart, the wooden assailant of death protruding from its blue skin. The man rolled over with a frustrated groan, his eyes wide with strands of dark brown hair strewn about in front of the bright blue. A roguish grin stretched from cheek to cheek and he nodded as he stared up into the amber sky. Sylvanas inspected his person to see the blade of the axe that was meant for her firmly placed within his hand and forearm, the steel gauntlet not serving great protection from beneath. Her face turned sour for a moment, "Thank you..." She said quickly in the humans language, "But you didn't have to do that" She grabbed the hilt the axe and tugged slightly, testing how well it had penetrated his flesh. The man groaned and shook his head side to side while wincing in pain at the Elfs' actions and tried to sit up, however Sylvanas placed a hand to his chest plate and held him down. "It was nothing, but we must move. It's not safe sitting in the middle of a battlefield, ya know!" he ushered as he watched trolls, elves, and his own kind battle to the death around them. She smiled and shook her head, her golden locks of hair flying true with each motion. "You needn't worry about those trolls." With a quick yank of her entire arm, Sylvanas pulled the axe from the man's arm, causing him to cry in pain for a moment. She then stood with her bow in hand and held an arrow in the other, readying to fight once more. The man rolled over in the dirt and propped himself up on his knees before standing, his injured arm in hand. He stumbled at first, attempting to gain balance, and then turned to look at Sylvanas. He stared at the elf for what felt like an eternity, however had only been a few seconds. The way her hair resembled pure gold and her slightly sun kissed skin appeared as if it simply reflected the rays of the sun caught any ones attention. Her blue and silver armor also glistened in light, giving her an almost holy aura. Sylvanas turned to look at the man, who was clearly staring. She transferred the arrow to the same hand as her bow and held out her free one in a greeting gesture._

 _"Sylvanas Windrunner... The Ranger-General of Silvermoon." She spoke with ease, her voice calm and confident despite the fighting still pressing around them. The man held his hand out as well, taking Sylvanas' and shaking. "Lord Willhelm WolfHardt, at your service." Sylvanas smiled at hearing his title. "A pleasure to meet you Lord WolfHardt, again, thank you for stopping that axe from ending the long spree that is my many years spent in this realm." Willhelm returned the smile and shook his head once more, "Non sense, the pleasure is all mine Ranger-Genral, I'm honored to meet you, and even more so to fight at your side, as well as save you from what might of been the end of your life." He bowed before drawing his sword from its sheath. He peered down at his still fresh wound and sighed as blood clearly coated the steel and watched as it began to trickle down the hilt of his blade. He merely shook it off and gave Sylvanas a nod of the head before the two returned to battle. She noted his boldness and thought of how she too would ignore any injuries until after the battle was won._

 _Sylvanas stood next to the tent that had been erected there solely for her own use, that was surrounded by smaller tents used by just normal soldiers of her army, and over looked the reminisce of the previous battle and swam in her own pit of guilt. The view of the field of bodies was sickening yet she couldn't look away for she knew she had ordered them there. The trolls were getting stronger and larger in numbers, which numbers were the main reason her people were so troubled in this war. The Humans came to their aid as well, however also suffered a grave amount of casualties at their own expense. They were great allies, strong willed and brave in battle however they numbered too little as well, most of their forces being occupied by other matters. However Lordaeron was close enough to know that Sylvanas and her people needed help in their endevours, and help they recieved" Chainmail and steel plating clanked together as someone approached from behind her, causing her to turn to see who it might be. The man walking up to her surely surprised her but certainly was welcomed. "Lord WolfHardt! I'm glad to see you made it out of that alive!" Her face turned grime as she turned back to the left-overs of war. "Many great soldiers were lost today, its ashame..." Willhelm nodded while running his fingers through his full beard in deep thought. "Yes..." He paused a moment and sighed. "I lost a few friends on this day. They were brave men and great warriors... They will be missed, as will the rest who fell today. However my commander seems to think they were well sacrificed." He paused a long moment. "Im not sure I entirely agree." Sylvanas nodded and she hung her head in dispair. "I'm sorry to hear that you lost some friends in the fight, I know how loss feels. I've lost a great many friends, even family, to this war." She faced him completely, making eye contact. "I'm even more sorry that it was my peoples' battle that caused them to lose their lives, though." She turned her head away in shame. Willhelm scoffed and exhaled greatly. "Yes well, despite who they fought for, I'm sure they were greatful to fall to battle rather than old age or sickness. I realize you carry a burden thinking that each and every death on our two sides were your fault. I'd ask you not to trouble yourself with such thoughts, however I do not know the struggles of leading an army so I also do not know the dificulties of ignorning such thoughts. I will just simply say that no matter who the leader, armies always suffer casualties and you manage to keep yours at the minimal, the best you can. Mine on the other hand seems to think the more you lose, the better." Sylvanas didn't move but simply looked into the distance. A change of subject was due._

 _"Hows your arm?" She asked softly. Willhelm chuckled ever so slightly at the change of subject. "It works, and that is good enough for me, the healers did good work on it. Your Paladins are very close with the light. They did say that there will still be scarring but im quite alright with that." She smiled a little. "Thats good to hear." replying in something a little more than a whisper. Once more a monent of silence, "Do you know when your people will be returning to Lordaeron?" She asked, entering her tent, expecting him to follow. Willhelm shrugged and let his arms drop to his side as he did in fact follow. "Soon I would think, however it won't be until our... esteemed... commander says so." Sylvanas lightly laughed at the mild sarcasm and continued while looking at the map that lay on a large table in the center of her tent. "Well, if you could possibly relay a message to him, I would greatly appreciate it." An honest smile was shot in his direction as she looked up from the map. Willhelm nodded and returned the smile. "Right..." She began once more, "So, my people and I are..." She straightened her posture and completely faced Willhelm, "...struggling with these trolls on multiple fronts. I was curious if he'd be able to send some of his men back with me to Silvermoon so we are to use them in our battle against the Trolls. Tell him that if he has any questions to come see me. If you do this. I'd be very greatful." Willhelm bowed in repsect to hers truly and stood straight once more. "I'd be more than happy to Lady Windrunner. I shall get to it then, it was a pleasure to have fought at your side, as well as get to have this talk." His smile was genuine. "Nonsense, the pleasure was all mine Lord Wolfhardt, you did afterall save my life." Again, the smile was returned. "And worth saving it was... Farewell Ranger-Genral." Sylvanas bid him a farewell as well and with that, Willhelm turned on the heel and exited the tent_.

A wide smile appeared upon Willhelm's face as he thought of the first time he had met Sylvanas in person. He admired her, especially due to her skill in combat. She may have been a Ranger and him a warrior, however she was just as skilled with a blade as she was a bow. Willhelm and a bow, on the other hand, didn't mix so well, despite the few lessons he was given by multiple people in the past. Over the years leading up to the invasion of the scourge, Sylvanas and Willhelm had ran into each other on multiple occasions, Willhelm having been one of the many men stationed at Silvermoon in an attempt to help the Elves against the blight of the Trolls. He had also been introduced to Ellithara, Sylvanas' distinguished lover. She too was feirce in battle, however not for the same reason her partner was. Ellithara wielded the powers of dark, holy energy. A priest at heart, yet twisted into something of fear and pain, which she very much so burned such things into her enemies with even so much as a glance, her gleeming frost eyes turning into firey shadows. The trio became great friends, and even greater allies in battle. Willhelm grew attatched to the two She-Elves rather quickly. However not more than a day after the human forces returned to their great city of Lordaeron, did Arthas kill his father in cold blood and slaughter the entire city, releasing the undead upon his own people, using the newly dead to grow his army even greater. Ofcourse, Arthas then moved towards the Elves, ravaging the people, killing 90% of their population, including Sylvanas. Willhelm had not been at Lordaeron at the time of Arthas' invasion, deciding to stay in Silvermoon to continue fighting the trolls, however when the scourge landed upon the Elven city, one glance at the army of undead told him all he needed to know. His family, wife, kids, and other relatives and friends, all now either dead or mindless corpses trudging through the dirt beneath their feet and he was powerless to help any of them. The best he could have done was give them peace. Once forced back into the city itself, Willhelm and Ellithara were some of the last to of gotten out of the city as it burned to the ground. They watched as Arthas plunged Frostmourne into Sylvanas' chest and took the soul from her body. They watched as the undead decimated thousands upon thousands of Elven people. All they could do, was watch.

The memories clouded Willhelm's mind, causing his previous smile to turn completely sour. He could feel tears begin to form in tbe corners of his eyes as he began to re-hear the screams of innocent people being slaughtered like pigs in his head as well as how he was powerless to save his beloved wife and children. His son and two daughters, to never be seen again, to never be able to watch them grow into the great adults he knew they would become. Images of the undead flashed through his mind, the brave war cries of the Elves defending their home, ready to die in it's defense. And then once more, the hollowed cry of Sylvanas as life left her body, and the anguished scream of Ellithara as she watched the love of her life die, and the memory of how difficult it was the pull her back in all her fury, to keep her from getting herself killed in some mindless attempt to avenge her lover. The image of pure hatred in her eyes. Before he even realized it, Willhelm had begun sobbing softly up in his isolated nest that sat above the ship below, the smooth sea-breeze drying the tears to his cheek as they continued to roll downward. He attempted to wipe them away and clear his face, but to no avail, they kept coming. He shook his head, trying his hardest to empty his mind of the harsh memories that assaulted him but still, nothing. Willhelms' grip tightened on the rope he held as he still sat on the railing, and he threw his legs over into the inside of the crows nest, then following, he slid down onto the floor of the nest and pulled his knee's into his chest. He continued to cry hysterically into the top's of his knees, the images of his children's smiles flashing into the forefront of his mind, as well as his wife that he missed just as much. A frost bitten hand clasped onto his shoulder, who he instinctively knew to be Sylvanas. She didn't make a sound, just simply set down next to him and placed her head onto his shoulder in an attempt at comforting him. Willhelm felt hair brush against his arms and fall into place, side strands draping over. His sobbing slowed as he opened his eyes to see strands of her once golden locks strewn about in front of his eyes, the now dark and white and brittle hair once more reminding him that he was not the only one to suffer. His mind began to clear as it began to empty of his previous thoughts and fill up with sympathy. Willhelm lifted his head and glanced to his left at Sylvanas, noticing her eyes were closed in thought. He shifted the shoulder her head lied upon, causing her eyes to flash open, the rubies boring into his. She lifted her head and continued to stare into his eyes. Her brows lowered and her eyes narrowed as she began to seemingly search for something in Willhelm.

He feigned a smile at her and looked away at the floor of the crows nest, then reached up to grab the railing with his right arm. He began to stand, pulling himself up toto get onto his feet and leaving Sylvanas to sit. He felt nails dig into his other arm as she grabed at his forearm and pulled him back down towards her and he simply gave in. He exhaled sharply and sat once more next to her as she clung to his arm.

"Sylvanas..." he muttered. She shook her head in response and parted her lips to speak, "We have all suffered in the past..." She turned to look him in the eyes, "...and for many of us, it still haunts us to this day... A moment to release all of those pent up emotions... A moment to cry... to remember all that we have lost... is one we all deserve. Don't let yours go to waste..." The words bit hard into Willhelms' mind. She was strong willed, certain that if anything were to attempt to stand in her way would crumble before her and showed no emotion other than rage, effected by nothing other than her own ambitions, yet she was the one to look him in the eyes, her face full of empathy, as well as sympathy, and give him advice on his feelings. Even the Banshee Queen had her moments. Sylvanas looked foward towards the center the crows nest and placed a hand on Willhelms' leg. "My dear friend..." Willhelm eyes landed upon her hand as it moved back and forth in a single circle on his thigh. "Would you believe me if I said I was terrified?" She turned her face back towards him. "Terrified of what?" he questioned, "You're more than likely the most feared leader in all of Azeroth... Sure you have your enemies, however most are too scared to so much as go against you." Curiosity flooded his head as he turned searched her face, waiting for her to give an answer. Her expression was doleful and eyes downcast, "Death..."

 ** _This is a line breaker because i don't know how to actually put one like ive seen on other stories so yea... here we gooooo..._**

Ellithara sat idle upon a throne that was not her own, her eyes darting to every corner, taking in the space she already knew well enough. With on leg propped up and the other stretched out, her head in her hand, elbow on the arm rest and the other arm slack in her lap as she watched. It felt odd being in her seat, in Sylvanas' throne. She sat upright, her feet just ever so slightly touching the cold stone floor beneath her. She ran her hand thoroughly across the grey, rough brick that made up the seat and couldn't help but think of Sylvanas. Everything around her was a solid reminder of her queen, who she missed deeply. Her touch, her caress, pure extacy of her lips pressed against her soft flesh. Ellithara could feel herself weakening as she thought of the multiple times the two had made love and instead of pleasuring herself, she had to sit idle and suffer, all while tending to the people of Undercity. Ellithara came back to when a gruff, disembodied voice broke through her daydream. Her blue eyes shot forth and landed on the disfigured face of a forsaken commoner. His jaw was only attached by a metal plate on bolted onto the left side of his head, his words were difficult to understand, however she made due.

"Lady Ravensun..." The man kelt before Ellithara and stared at her feet and the stone floor as he spoke. Ellithara was confused by his actions and leaned forward "Please, rise!" She urged, motioning for him to stand. "I'm not your queen, I do things a bit differently than she does. No need to worry about any executions while I'm in power!" Her smile was wide as she tilted her head to the side and grinned. The undead man looked up to face her and was lost in her expression but stood anyways. "Okay?" He said slowly, "Well, there have been an increased presence of dark hounds near the entrence to the sewers and-" Ellithara cut him off mid sentence with quite a bit of enthusiasm, "Got it! I'll send some dread guards their way to deal with the hounds immediately, no need to worry!" The forsaken man furrowed his brows as best as he could and stood with confision rather apparent on his face. "Um, thank you? My lady..." he bowed and turned on his heel to leave. Ellithara slumped back into Sylvanas' throne and sighed with relief, thinking to herself that she handled the conversation well. However when she gazed past the man who was now leaving, she noticed the slew of forsaken men and women soon to approach her for her utmost co-operation.

An hour and a half past when Ellithara finished up with the last citizen of Undercity. She slouched over, her shoulder keeping her head up as her forearm sat on the thrones' arm rest. The golden locks fell over her shoulder and hung loosely, swaying as a very slight breeze constantly flowed throughout the winding tunnels of Undercity. Footsteps from behind began to fill her ears as they perked up in response to the sound and she lazily peered out of her perifrials, her bright blue dimming as het lids grew closer together. A boney hand clasped onto the back of the throne as a forsaken woman, clad in a steel chestplate with chainmail hanging from the inside as well as shoulder guards, stepped into place at her side.

"Lady Ravensun, I presume you had an exhilarating time with the locals..." Her voice was much more clear than the vast majority of other forsaken, possibly having been raised early on after her death. Ellithara peered up to look the woman in the eyes, the amber glow that all forsaken shared was more aparent than most as well, her eyes being brighter than others. "I'd say you presume wrong, Deathstalker Junis." her voice was low and deeper than normal, making it obvious she didn't care much for the tease. "Very much so indeed... Is this what it's like for Sylvanas every day? She normally keeps me out of these sessions, claims she spares me of the bordem." Junis put a smirk onto her face as best she could and moved her hand from the chair to Ellithara's back with a gentle pat. "After today, you may very well have the answer to that question, my lady." Ellithara softly chuckled and nodded in response. "Now, you're right about that. I'm certain she does spare me of the bordem. I'll have to thank her for that when she returns." The two women laughed in unison. Deathstalker Junis removed her hand from Ellithara and stepped forward more, coming to stand just before the set of stairs leading down from the throne. Without looking back at Ellithara, Junis spoke once more, "You're doing well in the Dark Lady's stead. Just don't think too much about the position you hold, but rather who it is you hold it for. You make her happy, just as I imagine you did when she breathed, even if they say happiness isn't for the undead. Lead how you will, she'll support the decisions you make." Junis turned her head and faced Ellithara, whom stared back, "Sylvanas will return before you know it."


	4. Chapter 4

**_Hello all! Welcome to chapter 4 of this adventure! I'm glad you could join me thus far and I hope you'll stay for many more chapters to come! Just a heads up, it may take some time to push out the following few chapters due to School and work taking up a majority of my life. but I'll try my best and keep'er going!_**

 _"Fall back to the docks everyone! They're pushing through the main gate!" A Silvermoon guard urged the crowd of frightened people through the many alleys and strips throughout the city as the scourge pushed through, desecrating everything in its way. Willhelm stood mixed within the makeshift platoon of High Elven soldiers, blade at the ready._

 _The Elves marched onward down the street before standing in a line with their shields held forward and swords also drawn, creating a blockade against the forces that invaded their homeland. With a look to the left, then to the right, each man and woman in the line of defense wore a fierce mask of courageousness, ready to look death in the eyes and spit in its face in defense of their city and people._

 _No-one spoke, nothing more than the screams of defenseless citizens getting cut down as well as the not-so distant howls of disgusting abominations and ghouls. Rangers were lined up in unison with the warriors, each one with their bows, ready to draw their arrows and fire at first sight of the impending doom. Mages as well as other spell casters also occupied the space, their eyes glowing with arcane and holy fire, hands barely containing their uncast spells._

 _The stench of death weighed heavy in the air, mixing with the sweat of the living and the smoke of a burning city. Willhelm looked to the closest group of rangers, instantly spotting Sylvanas, standing out from their forrest green, clad in her blue and silver leather. As he stared, it was as if she felt his eyes land on her, as she turned and faced him equally, her eyes full of worry, yet a face of stone, of fury. She gave a reassuring nod, her eyes closing as she did so, and turned back to her rangers, pointing and giving directions to good vantage points._

 _Rangers dispursed to various locations, however, the vast majority stayed. A turn of the head caused his eyes to catch on Ellithara. She looked frightened, concerned of what might happen to her and everyone else that stood next to her. She too seemingly sensed his eyes, as she turned and met them. The normally bright blue glow of her eyes were dim and had grayed, full of sorrow. She was now the last remaining member of her immediate family, having watched the entirety of her house all fall to the evil bastards that now threatened to take her life as well. She thought how they might now be part of the force she had to defend her people against, the possibility of having to kill her friends and loved ones, the people she grew up with, had finally hit her, Willhelm could see it in her eyes. They darted to and from, seemingly searching for something in him, strength maybe?, he thought to himself._

 _An amplified call from a bird broke the silence of the people, all looking in directing of the sound, in which their eyes met Sylvanas', whom now stood on a group of crates stacked on top of each other. She glanced around at the surrounding masses of her army, looking each and every soldier in the eyes, showing compassion and empathy for their struggles up to this point, and mentally thanked each individual. She straightened her posture and squared get shoulders, still making eye contact with them all and parting her lips to speak in their native tongue._

 _"I know..."', she paused a moment and looked upon the_ soldiers _that laid before her and sighed, "I know today has been... rough, to put it simply." She spoke loud and clearly, "We've all suffered a great deal! However, this day is not yet over, so we must continue to stand so that those who cannot fight, can live on! Push back the feelings of sorrow and fear, and bring forth those of anger and vengeance! Show these scourge who they dare invade! Show Arthas that we will not fall so easily! We fight for Quel'thalas, for the Quel'dorei, for Silvermoon! We will rain victorious, or die trying! Anar'alah belore!" The Elves around her roared and cheered at her speech, their valor renewed. The hurrah's of the multitude of High Elves could be heard for miles, so she thought. Sylvanas smiled at the rally as her people cheered for the first time in what felt like an eternity. Willhelm, Ellithara, and Sylvanas looked one another with wide smiles, the three ready to fight at each others' sides. To fall if necessary._

 _The figure of and call from an approaching guard caught the attention of the rowdy crowd, in which they quieted as they all looked in his direction. He continued to yell and wave as he rushed forward, his words unclear for the moment. As he got closer, what he spoke became cleared, "They're coming! The scourge is here! Fall back! Run!!!" The Elf ran as fast as his feet carried him, but as he came no less than 20 meters from the blockade, his feet faltered and he fell. A few soldiers broke formation to go help the Elf get back on his feet, but Sylvanas halted them. "Don't!" She called out, "Look! Back in formation! Prepare yourselves!" The few Elves that had already left their ranks stopped in their place to look at the Elf, only to see an arrow sticking prominently from his back. They then turned to run back into the blockade as whistling pierced their ears. One Elf fell, meeting the same fate as the guard, another, and another._

 _Arrows began to rain, pelting the stone beneath their feet. "Raise your shields! Shields!!!" Sylvanas called out the order, and so the soldiers listened, raising their shields to protect them from the onslaught of arrows. The rangers, as well as the spell casters dashed for cover just before the arrows touched ground, watching them scatter and snap as they hit. The sounds of steel plunging into the perfected craftsmanship of the High Elven shields were like a symphony of the gods. A multitude of arrows assaulted in no particular grouping, each one having it's own path and target, some completely missing it's intended mark._

 _The small force of Elven warriors held true, their shields staying high like a blanket of steel. With each arrow, less and less fell down onto the troops, eventually coming to a stop. Sylvanas appeared from an alley way between two buildings and peered forward at where the projectiles had came from. Her eyes glared down the strait, only moving to each side of the street they held. Willhelm also stepped into view once more, out from underneath the soldiers shields. Ellithara and the other spell casters still held in cover however. Some Elves lowered their shields, uncertain of another attack, however not wanting to tire before the battle. They spread out, moving behind the makeshift defenses they had erected not too long before standing in formation, wooden spikes in the form of X's being such defenses._

 _From where he now stood, Willhelm could see Sylvanas waving her hand to and from, in which her rangers responded, sprinting to the sides of buildings and readying their bows. "Hold!" He heard her call out in Thalassian as they settled into their positions. His understanding of their language had grown with time, not to the point of fluidity, yet enough to get by._

 _An Elf clad in gold and green leather and chainmail jumped out from the shadows of a near by alley and stepped into a salute infront of Sylvanas, inwhich she returned with a simple nod. Willhelm noted his armor, recognizing him as Halduron, one of her higher ups. They exchanged words for a moment and the look that transpired upon Sylvanas' face told no lie about the information she had just received. With a dismissal of Halduron, she turned and began to jog towards Willhelm with quickness. As she approached him, he nodded to her and stepped closer to lessen the distance. They stopped infront of each other and shared a moment of silence before speaking. "They'll be around that corner any moment now..." Sylvanas spoke as she pointed down the length of the road they stood on. "We're outnumbered one hundered to one... I truly don't know how long we can hold to allow for more people to evacuate. Other forces around Silvermoon have fallen back completely to the northern docks, if we don't move soon, we'll be flanked... I-" Willhelm stepped forward a foot and placed both hands on her opposite shoulders. "Sylvanas... Steady yourself, your people will prevail. Maybe Silvermoon may fall today, but the High Elves will live on. If we need to fall back, then we will, under your command. We follow you to victory, or die trying, and I'll be more than glad to fall at your side." She simply shook her head with closed eyes in reply. "I will not let you, nor anyone else fall today, I can't, not after all I've failed to protect..." Her face was filled with anguish as well as fury. "Whether you like it or not, you yourself cannot decide who does and does not fall today, my dear Ranger-Genral." Her gaze dropped at his reply for she knew he was right, however it wouldn't stay her attempt nonetheless._

 _In what seemed like a flash of lightning, several gargoyles darted through the sky over the tops of the houses around them, snatching up rangers in higher up positions and ripping them to pieces. Several more sailed through the orange sky towards the Elven blockade, getting closer with every second. Both Sylvanas' as well as Willhelm's heads snapped in the direction as they spotted the foul creatures and with a curse under each others breath, they broke their meeting and dispersed to their original positions. Sylvanas shouted orders, to which her soldiers followed, her rangers drawing their bows and firing at the winged undead. The warriors fell into a solid shield wall, trapping Willhelm inside with them. As he stood with an equal shield raised, he could hear nothing but disembodied screeching of gargoyls and the screams and shouting of Elves. Ghouls and geists rounded onto the strait and charged with no remorse onward towards the blockade. They sporadically moved down the straight away, making for harder targets, however plenty of arrows found their mark, despite each fallen undead not making so much as a scratch in their numbers._

 _The Elven warriors began to march forward, moving quickly to meet the oncoming evil. In mere seconds, they clashed, the sound of steel cutting through bodies filled the air. Balls of arcane and holy fire shot forth into the scourge forces, killing many, yet seemingly none. Willhelm watched as Elves infront of him fought and fell, simply waiting for his turn in the mix. It came, as he stepped over the lifeless bodies that layed before him and pushed forward with his shield, all whilst swinging his sword with dexterity._

 _The formation broke as more undead swarmed, soon fighting turned into a game of luck where skill seemed to matter none. Willhelm drowned out all noise around him, eyes practically blinded by constant movement. So many targets in one place, a ghoul infront, to the side, and behind. A gargoyle above and an abomination approaching quickly. The street was littered with bodies, the fight seemingly close to an end as fast as it had started. A turn of the head, Willhelm lifted with his shield arm and put the heavy metal infront to block an attack from a ghoul. The swipe of the creatures sickening claws scraped the shield and slightly staggered Willhelm. He retaliated and thrusted his shield into the ghoul, hitting it in it's center mass and throwing it to the ground. Willhelm cocked his blade back and shot it downward into the undead body, finishing it off. Before he could turn around, a sharp pain echoed from his side. He ripped the sword from the ghoul and twisted to face his next opponent. A geist pulled back_ _and crouched downward, in position to leap. It attempted to pull off what Willhelm could only assume to be a smirk and launched itself forward. Willhelm moved to brace the impact with his shield, however didn't find his footing in time. The geist knocked him to the ground and rounded to go in for the attack once more. Willhelm struggled to get to his feet, his shield and armor weighting him down. The geist jumped into the air to bring itself down into Willhelm and end his life, but just when it thought it had victory and Willhelm thought he had failed to avenge his family and help save the Elves, an arrow pierced its skull. The geist went limp and slammed into the stone beneath them._

 _A hand reached out to Willhelm, in which he kindly accepted. He was pulled onto his feet to meet welcoming eyes. Sylvanas' faced has been cut, it began just on her cheekbone and stopped at the base of her ear. Her eyes still shined despite everything around them, he had noticed._ _"Not today my dear friend!" She put a hand on his shoulder plate and nodded to him. He returned the gesture before bending over and picking up his sword. "Thank you Sylvanas, I owe you one!" She smirked and gave him a wink before turning and drawing her bow once more. She delve back into the fight not a moment later, disappearing into the crowd. Willhelm shook off whatever pain he felt and focused back on the fight. He chose his next target and charged forward back into the fight._

 _"Fall back! To the docks, theres too many! Pull back but keep your shields up!" Sylvanas shouted orders as she continuously shot arrows at each new target. The Elven fighters were now too few. They stood no chance. Ellithara stood behind the few shields that stood in a wall and casted spells to smite the undead. She wiped out what seemed like entire crowds of the scourge with her holy fire but with each one to fall, another simply filled it's place. It was an endless slaughter._

 _Panting with no breath left in his lungs, Willhelm continued to swing his sword mercilessly with no true enemy beneath his blade as it came down, cutting through the air. A few Elves stood along side him, grunting ferociously as they fought as well. They swung their weapons with fury and held their ground, however they all were cut off from the remaining bit of the larger force, destined to die here and now._

 _Sylvanas moved with Halduron as well as some other rangers on the side lines to flank the initial force of undead. She and Halduron split from the group and continued moving to find vantage points. As she dashed past an alley, everything went black for a moment as she felt a freezing wave wash over her. She woke with her cheem pressed against the cold stone road and her vision flashing on and off. She blinked to attempt to refocus her sight as a large, round, gray figure approached her. It was massive, hulking, and the meer glance of the creature disgusted even it's creator. The Abomination stepped forward until it stood just before Sylvanas. She tried with all her might to get back to her feet but to no avail, her arms faltered as they held no strength for the moment. Golden locks dangled infront of her eyes, as her hood was no longer attached by woven threads, allowing her hair to flow freely. Blood clung to her face as it drained from her forhead from where she was just hit and dazed. She was already dead, she thought to herself. The feeling of rough, cold stone left her as she began to feel lighter. The sky grew closer and without having to see it, she knew she was now in the air._

 _Sylvanas attempted to focus on the gored face infront of her and as her sight focused, she could see a smirk play onto the Abomination's face as it looked at her. It suspended her off of the ground, holding her at its full capability. "Master is going to like this..." Its foul, disembodied voice filled her ears as it spoke, and the stentch of its breath made her scowl. She simply wished for death at this point. Her vision faded out once more, passing out from the multitude of different reasons_ _that plagued her._

 _From a distance, Willhelm watched as Sylvanas was lifted from the ground by an abomination. Her rangers charged in to assist her, yet all they threw at the undead monstrosity were useless. Hakduron lead them, attacking from all sides. The abomination swung a wicked bladed hook it held in its opposite hand, holding Sylvanas on its shoulder while under attack. Willhelm could hardly hold his sword, exaughsted of all his will power. Seeing Sylvanas in such a posisition was the only thing keeping him on his feet. Another Elf fell beside him, the scream of agony as he was cut down rung in head head, and the Elf's blood splattered on his armor. A ghoul knocked another Elf over and began to rip the she-elf apart without the slightest bit of mercy. Willhelm, however, trudged along, moving towards Sylvanas as auickly as he could, doing whay he could to defend himself as well. A geist charged him, but was smited by light. Ellithara and two apprentice mages cut a line through undead forces to attempt to save their Ranger-Genral, however soon began to also be over power._

 _A roar filled the air and at first glance, the abomination fell to the stone. Rangers rushed to retrieve Sylvanas but as if they could catch no break, dark, shadowy tendrils shot forth and grabed each one, throwing them out into the scourge army as if they were a bone to a dog. A figure, clade in darkend silver, steel plate emerged from the shadows of the buoding around them. He stood tall, his armor giving him perhaps a larger appearence then her truly had, ita jagged points and extensions protruding from his center mass. Depictions of skulls lined his shoulder plates and the top of his boots. Frost seemingly clung to his armor and a mist radiated from him as it evaporated and formed simultaneously. In hand, he held a blade that glimmered with death. Its runes that were engraved in the steel glowed blue, as if made of flame. The tip of the blade dragged along the strait as the man walked with ambition, the sea of undead splitting before him. ARTHAS... The named rang volumes in Willhelms head. Arthas reached his fallen commander and peered down at the corpse before immediately turned his gaze to Sylvanas' semi-concious form on the ground._ _Willhelm watched the man reach down and grab Sylvanas by her hair and lift her into the air. He tried to call out as he limped to them, but his voice did nothing to carry. He moved ad quickly as he could, the sound of Ellithara screeming Sylvanas's name drowned out all other noise. She rushed past him in full sprint, ready to do anything to save her love, however a gargoyle spotted her and swooped down to intercept. It stretched it's claws out and latched onto her shoulders and attempted to lift her into the sky. She squirmed and shook to gain release from its grasp, and in a moment of pure struggle, her emotions ran true, causing her eyes to flash bright with holy light. Holy magic coarsed around her and blew out into a ball, encasing the gargoyle and her, before imploding and disintegrating the gargoyle and letting her fall the sum meters it had carried her. Ellithara hit the stone with a tuck of the body and rolled back into a sprint. Arthas took notice of her approach, turning and holding Frostmourne, his wicked blade, out towards Ellithara. A bright blue flare of light shone from the blade as a beam of frost shot forth from the tip, striking her in the chest and sending her flying back towards Willhelm._ _In a last second attempt, he held his arms out and caught her, embracing the impact and falling to ground with her in his arms. He noticed now that everything had gone still, the undead masses frozen in their place. At that point all he could do was watch._

 _Arthas turned back to Sylvanas, who now was conscious enough to speak. " I salute your bravery Elf, but the chase is over..." Arthas declared. "Then I'll make my stand here, butcher... Anar'alah belore..." Sylvanas spoke with all she could muster, her voice still strong dispite her injuries and exhaustion. Willhelm watched as she moved and arm to the backside of her waist and unsheathed a dagger. She ripped it through the air and stuck it into Arthas' neck, cause him to reel back, crying out in agony and dropping Sulvanas to the ground. She dropped to her knee's and hung her head, awaiting her own demise. Arthas tore the dagger from his neck and threw the Elven blade to the stone beneath his boot. He kneeled down and wrapped his free hand around Sylvanas' neck, once more bringing her up. He raised his right arm, bringing the tip of Frostmourne to Sylvanas' abdomen, just barely scrapping the skin. Sylvanas could feel the chill, the frost forming on her stomach. Willhelm could do nothing to save her. Tears ran down his cheeks as he quietly sobbed. He began scooting backwards accross the ground, pulling Ellithara with him, but never taking his sight off of Sylvanas. In a meer moment, Arthas drew back Frostmourne, the sword visably begging for the Elf's soul, its hunger was insatiable, and plunged it into Sylvanas with no mercy. Sylvanas gasped as the sword entered her, drawing her last breath of air into her lungs, and with that last taste of fresh, sweet Quel'dorei air, she spoke softly, "Finish it... I deserve a clean death..." Arthas simply smirked and shook his head. "After all you've put me through woman, the last thing I'll give you is the peace of death..." Sylvanas' eyes opened wide with realization, "No!..." She exclaimed, the last of the air leaving lungs as Arthas tore Frostmourne out of her now lifeless body and tossed her to the ground, laughing maniacally._

 _Willhelm felt arms wrap around him and lift him up as he held Ellithara. Someone was pulling him to safety, he could tell. As he got closer to the boats, his vision lessened and his view of Sylvanas disapated. The last thing he wittnessed was Arthas pointing Frostmourne at Sylvanas, the sword tearing her soul from her body._

-.-.-.-.- _BACK TO THE PRESENT!_ -.-.-.-.-.-.

Willhelm's eyes shot open, his body lunging forward, almost sending his covers flying off of the bed he now layed in. Sylvanas, whom layed next to him sat up beside him, puting a hand on his back. For a moment, she moved her hand smoothly over his back, feeling the dense muscles and scars that made him up. _"A bad dream...?"_ She asked quietly as she attempted to sooth him. His breathing was heavy and he cried without even noticing it. He simply nodded in response, comfirming her suspicion. _"What of, my love?_ She wondered. He shook his head, trying his best to remove the memories from his head. _"You..."_


End file.
